Tom Riddle and the Hidden Potions
by Younghagrid
Summary: Lawyer Tom Riddle wants to protect the local pubs when a ban on alcohol is placed. It is local officer Harry Potter's job to keep the law in order. When an underground alcohol ring is formed, lawyer and officer bump heads in an attempt to overpower the other. Rated M: for language and themes such as alcohol.


It was the beginning of different style of life for Tom Riddle. A new law had been passed that prohibited the sale of alcohol except for medical purposes as prescribed by a doctor. At first the law had been taken as a joke amongst the people. Business continued as normal, people began to bet their beers over card games, the drunks seemed to get worse. Nothing changed at first. But then they started cracking down. People were being thrown away left and right because of this law. As people close to him began to be taken in for the consumption and selling of alcohol, Tom knew something had to be done.

"We've got a job to do. First they take away our alcohol. Who knows what will be next? Our basic human rights?" he preached to his group of friends. They looked at him, nodding in agreement.

It hadn't taken long for their underground business to get started. Once people heard what they were doing, plenty of people jumped onboard. ' _Save the alcohol, save our rights'_ were what people were saying. Some even went as far as to tell Tom that he was doing God's justice. The group of outlaws had been careful of who they sold to at first. If they didn't have the mark, they weren't getting any. Soon the business continued to grow, much to Tom's delight, and their number of customers grew too. They were still particular to who was able to buy from them, but sometimes slip ups occurred. Tom dealt with them properly, first eliminating the problem then finding the source to cut the dead end there.

He knew he had to protect the businesses from going under. One day after seeing another one of the local drunks get caught stumbling home while in a stupor, he knew the cops would be swarming the man, asking too many questions about where he got his booze from. They would promise him exemption from punishment if he squealed. Tom knew the man well enough to know he would squeal like a teapot. He also knew that the cops weren't going to exempt him from anything. Tom slipped into the drunk's favorite pub to spread a warning to the barman.

Well, a warning and a deal.

The warning was of course to let the barman know the cops would be coming after him once the drunk squealed. The deal was to offer the barman help in return for a vow of secrecy. Tom did not want his underground business to be shut down so quickly, nor because of one piss drunk man who couldn't walk a straight line sober. So after work, still dressed in his best suit and tie, Tom Riddle made his way to the pub.

Tom slipped into the pub using the dark color of his suit to blend into the shadows. He sat down in the corner of the pub with a small glass of soda, just waiting for things to unfold and it didn't take long. The pub was nothing fancy, just the average corner pub. It was dingy and dimly lit. The tables were rickety and scratched. Odd music seeped through the pub.

It wasn't but a half hour he spent waiting in the shadows until police came storming in, revolvers drawn. They made their way towards the bar, not really sparing a glance around the pub to see who was there. Tom waited until they had the bar surrounded before he stood up and slowly walked to the front of the establishment with his hands raised slightly in a gesture of surrender.

Tom spoke softly but firmly, " What seems to be the problem here today officers?"

One of the officers whose face was underneath the bar looked up at the sudden appearance of Tom. He stood slightly shorter than Tom, his black hair looking like he hadn't brushed it for a week. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, green eyes flickering over Tom's figure. "What's it matter to you?"

"Oh, nothing much. I am curious as to why you're raiding this pub."

"We got word that they were selling alcohol here. You know the law."

Tom nodded, not one to disagree with authority. "Yes, I'm well aware of the law. Do you have a warrant?"

The officer balked at Tom. He patted his pocket, searching for warrant. When he came up empty handed, he looked towards the other officers, some of which shook their heads. "Uh, well, not on me. I must have forgotten it back at the department. But we have a very reliable witness."

"And what would that be?"

"A man who received alcohol here."

Tom tilted his head at the officer and crossed his arms. "Your good word is from a drunk, a very reliable witness?" The officer again paused, green eyes narrowing. "Well, nevermind who your informant is, as a lawyer, I cannot stand by and allow you to raid this pub without a warrant. So you can take that good word of yours right out that door until you have a warrant."

The officers shuffled around, looking towards the pair. They continued to stare each other down, neither wavering on their stance. The black haired officer was the first to break his gaze. He turned towards his other officers to bark out the retreating order. He warned the barman they'd be back with the warrant soon before heading out. Once the door to the pub slammed shut, Tom allowed himself to look towards the barman, fixing his suit. The barman nodded his thanks to Tom.

"What do I do if they do come back with a warrant?" the barman asked.

"Well, I guess you better not have any illegal wares on site."

"But I'll lose business!"  
Tom rolled his eyes at the barman. "For a short period of time. They'll come in, check to see if you're housing any alcohol, then leave. Once they see you're clean, you won't be bothered again. It might be a week's worth of business lost max versus what you'd lose during your jail time. Your pick, just remember to keep my name and business out of it."

The barman nodded to Tom, signalling his understanding. Tom turned on his heel, exiting the pub. The black haired officer stood out to him for some reason, but he shook his head, pushing the image away. He stuffed his hands into his suit pockets and with long strides headed home, hoping the barman actually kept to his word. Tom would hate to cut ties with him so quickly.


End file.
